


Unwittingly Entertained Angels

by teaandtumblr



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grantaire and Castiel need to meet, Late Night Conversations, Les Mis AU, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Under My Wings verse, and Jehan, because of THAT finale, mentions of Sam - Freeform, we all just need something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27696251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandtumblr/pseuds/teaandtumblr
Summary: After abandoning Enjolras, Grantaire stumbles across theoneperson - or rather, being - that might understand what he's going through.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 41





	Unwittingly Entertained Angels

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Under My Wings You Will Find Refuge](https://archiveofourown.org/works/836606) by [Fiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiver/pseuds/Fiver). 



> i havent seen spn since s8 but i know enough (we all do, let's not lie). so i countered that by writing cas and grantaire meeting cause i think it's such a cool concept!

  
  


***

He doesn’t mean for it to happen. To be honest, Grantaire doesn’t even know _how_ it happens. He’s flitting across the world, using his wings to chase the sun, an excuse to keep his mind busy, when something slams into him. Not physically; or even mentally, really. It’s a whole nother plane Grantaire can’t put into words. An angelic sense, he best described it as. It brings him to an abrupt halt because somewhere over North America he feels a yearning near identical to his own. Grantaine weighs his options. He could go down and investigate, or he could leave - preferably now - before whichever of his brothers this is comes and finds him instead. 

Eventually it’s the mirroring ache that makes the choice for him. 

After all, this could be the only being on the planet that understands his pain but also his way of thinking, feeling, existing, as well. 

Grantaine lands in the middle of a two lane road in what can only be described as the middle of nowhere. A figure is matching him, several hundred metres away. There’s the glint of a blade and Grantaire isn’t stupid enough to think it’s a regular knife. He says nothing, the pair at a stand still for the longest time. How does he start conversation with the first of his kind he’s encountered in years? It’s likely they’re not even on the same side. A deserter like him? No, this angel could very well still be following orders. Like they were made to do. Like he himself did for far too long. 

“Who sent you?”

Grantaire blinks. He hadn’t expected the other to speak first. “No one.”

That earns him a curious head tilt. “I highly doubt that. If Heaven did not-”

Grantaire scoffs and the other stops. “Heaven has had no business with me for near four thousand years.”

It takes a moment for that process, then the angel approaches a little more. “You deserted?” Grantaire nods. “As did I. I was...I had doubts.”

Grantaire supposes that’s a word for it. He shifts his hands into his pockets, catches the angel blade being stowed. His eyes roam their surroundings, taking in the woods and the quietness. “This is where you sought refuge?”

“Hardly.” There’s some bitterness there. “My location is known. But I am no longer needed, required.”

That has to sting, a unique hurt. But Grantaire doesn’t press. He wouldn’t want to answer prying questions so he has no right to ask them. What he doesn’t expect though is for those last few metres to be crossed and a hand extended. He quirks an eyebrow but shakes it nonetheless. Obviously this angel’s had someone teach him the basics of human interaction. 

“Castiel.”

Grantaire’s other eyebrow shoots up, his grip lingering. So _this_ is Castiel. The rebel, the new god, and the everything in between. Grantaire can’t quite mask his surprise, Castiel clearing his throat in what may be shame. 

“Grantaire,” he says, to ease the tension more than anything. He then mentally slaps himself when Castiel looks confused, borderline suspicious. “Ah, Rachmiel,” he corrects. “You may have known me by that.”

“I do,” Castiel agrees. “You have taken a human name. I never considered the option.”

“I never wanted to be found,” Grantaire remarks with a mild shrug. 

It seems Castiel understands that, shifting back ever so slightly. Grantaire wonders if now is the moment to commiserate and share their woes - a post-apocalyptic angel pity party - when their peaceful serenity is suddenly shattered. It starts with a flash of green that Grantaire initially thinks is from a weapon only to then realise it’s a soul. It burns almost as brightly as Enjolras’ but its edges are scarred with copper. He freezes. Hell. This soul has been to _Hell_. It’s a shocking thought but it’s lost in the amusement of having a shotgun aimed at him. 

“Cas!”

Castiel merely raises a hand. “It’s fine Dean.”

The human, Dean, gives Grantaire an appraising scowl for his trouble. “Who are you anyway? You one of the angelic douche brigade?”

Grantaire looks at Castiel in disbelief. “How many angels has your human met?”

“Do not call him that,” Castiel requests as Dean jerks his gun higher. They all know it will do nothing against Grantaire but it would undoubtedly be satisfying. 

“Hey! Say that to my face!”

Grantaire frowns before realising, yes, he’s had his entire conversation with Castiel in _French_. Human tongues are all so similar, they don’t have the need to swap to understand each other. But it’s obvious Dean doesn’t speak French and is only hearing Castiel’s replies. Grantaire puts conscious thought this time into making sure the words passing his lips are English. 

“I asked how many of us you’d met.”

“Let’s just say I’ve met more than enough of you winged dicks.”

There’s venom and spite there and brittle hurt and something wavers in his soul, like a secondary layer Grantaire could see if only he looked hard enough. He does and nearly reels as a result because there’s an imprint on this soul, on this vessel, and it belongs to no other than Michael and is this-? Grantaire’s thoughts flail. This is _Michael’s vessel? The_ vessel? He wonders if dear Lucifer’s is nearby - they’re brothers after all. And this, this is the soul Castiel has been drawn to; attracted like a moth to a flame, just as Grantaire himself was to Enjolras. Did, impossibly, Castiel interfere with the apocalypse itself for this human? And Grantaire thought _he’d_ been stretching the rules, breaking boundaries. He’s done nothing compared to this.

Castiel breaks the tension. A hand on Dean’s arm seems more than ample enough, voice low and gravelly. “He deserted Heaven long before any of this; before even the birth of Christ. I would like to speak with him.”

Dean looks him over once more. “That true?” Grantaire nods because it is. “And you haven’t helped us before because?”

Grantaire rolls his eyes. It’s enough to knock Dean off kilter and ah, he must be familiar with angels much less acquainted with human kind. Grantaire is an outlier, he admits. He has more in common with a human than an angel these days; besides the obvious physiology, that is. “I have a hunter of my own I work alongside. Call us the European division.”

Dean looks like he never considered monsters existed outside of his own little world. He mumbles something to Castiel about a “Sam” and then disappears from whence he came. Through the trees Grantaire can just make out the lights of a derelict hotel. Souls flitter around there well enough. He assumes one to be Sam and does away with the subject. Castiel isn’t concerned so the situation must be safe. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Castiel says, eyeing him up. “You feel...the same. But he is not mine.”

“Humans rarely allow themselves to be claimed,” Grantaire admits. “I see the attraction though. His soul is…”

He doesn’t have to explain, Castiel just hums. “It has always burned too brightly. It isn’t any wonder the monsters continue to find him.”

It’s the exact way he feels about Enjolras. 

“How did you tell him?” Grantaine asks, when time has passed - it could have been minutes, hours, human time is so fleeting. It’s only the rain falling that makes Grantaire aware time has passed at all. Castiel frowns. “That, you know, you were an angel.”

Castiel’s frown deepens. “Dean has always known my identity. We have shared a profound bond ever since I raised him from perdition.”

Grantaire has to work hard not to choke because _holy shit_. “That’s an entrance.”

Castiel looks mildly ashamed. “I was Heaven’s mouthpiece to him until such a time as Lucifer was freed. But I…” His gaze turns far away. “I wavered. When it came to it, I wasn’t willing to sacrifice him. I would give, _have_ given, everything to keep him safe. But I do not know if Dean will ever be able to move passed what I once was.” 

He gets it. Grantaire absolutely gets it. His heart aches and his eyes burn because of how much he gets it. 

“Enjolras.”

That’s what he opens with, well aware of the piercing blue eyes staring at him. 

“Enjolras has a soul much like Dean’s - I was drawn to it. To keep close to him, I took the disguise of a hunter but…” Grantaire runs a hand through his hair. “When his life was at stake, I had no doubts about revealing myself.”

“And in that, you have lost him,” Castiel finishes.

Grantaire grimaces. “I guess it remains to be seen. He is rather stubborn.”

Amusement radiates out from Castiel. “Perhaps stubbornness was Father’s punishment for us.”

Grantaire tries not to think about their Father - can’t stand to - but it’s clear Castiel’s love is still there, if not buried under confusion and hurt. He allows himself to smile. “I imagine he thinks it will teach us a lesson.”

He gets the tiniest smile from Castiel before the angel is frowning, eyes turning back to the hotel. “I have stayed too long.”

Now that he’s said it, Grantaire can see it. The anxiousness rolling out of a particular room in waves. Dean’s soul twists, scared and ugly, and Grantaire takes his leave. He didn’t come to cause more worry after all. 

“Go.” He then hesitates. “If you need me, Castiel, call. But only when no one is listening.”

Castiel nods. “It was good to see you, brother.”

There’s a spreading of wings and then Castiel is gone, Dean’s soul immediately soothing but still agitated. Grantaine can imagine the conversation well enough, the demand for answers, the worry disguised as anger. He barely focuses on it though because he’s still stuck on Castiel’s words. On how it was _good_ to see him. On how someone, _anyone_ , in Heaven rejoiced at seeing him again. On how he, impossibly, had someone who had, like him, deserted. That he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t swallow down Heaven’s orders anymore. 

By the time he returns to France, Grantaire is borderline giddy. Enough so that he wakes Jehan up, entirely by accident. After days of moping, he can see how a vivid outpouring of joy is startling, shocking even. Jehan squints at him with tired eyes before a smile blossoms. 

“I can do with one angel in my life Grantaire but I think you could use another.”

Grantaire supposes he could.

***

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> comments are appreciated; thanking you kindly! .xx dan
> 
> ((also, yes, i got permission from fiver to post this))


End file.
